


Unprecedented (aka If I Were A Black Bird)

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Dwarrow Traditions, Forbidden Love, Love Confessions, M/M, The Hobbit Big Bang, The Hobbit Big Bang 2017, Unrequited Love, You Know Me - Eventual Happy Ending, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:09:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Thorin wants Bilbo to have all that he deserves ... for Bilbo to hold a place in The Kingdom of Erebor that is equivalent to the place he holds in Thorin's heart.  But The Council of Elders does not agree.  Not at all.  Traditions must be observed and upheld.  Therefore, Thorin will say nothing of his love to Bilbo ... who remains blissfully unaware.And to say one will die from lack of love is a ridiculous idea.At least ... that's what everyone says.





	1. The Answer is No ...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts), [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [whyisitclever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyisitclever/gifts), [aquileaofthelonelymountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/gifts).



> The secondary title will become very clear in a few chapters ... so bare with me ... and prepared for the angst

* * *

 

 

 

            “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘ _NO?!_ ’”

            “The council cannot grant approval.”

            “Cannot ... or _will_ not?!”

            “Semantics ... it does not matter either way.”

            “It does to me!”

            “Regardless, we will not take the risk.”

            “And what exactly is there to risk?!”

            “The kingdom.”

            “THIS ISN’T ABOUT THE KINGDOM! THIS IS ABOUT MY LIFE!”

            “The kingdom and your life are one and the same.”

            “Very well then, tell me how _this is a risk_ to me!”

            “It is an unprecedented danger.”

            “ _What danger?!_ ”

            “A great many may view it negatively.”

            “I am King!”

            “And as such, you must put the kingdom before your own selfish desires.”

            “You would dare call my happiness a selfish desire?!”

            “A king who cares more for his own happiness than he does for his subject’s may well be viewed as selfish.”

            Thorin’s hand moved quickly to Orcrist’s handle but Dis stopped him from unsheathing the weapon. “Don’t Thorin. Try and remain calm.”

            “Calm?!” Thorin turned a furious look upon his sister. “They are denying me my heart and soul!”           

            “We aren’t denying either,” Lord Hagar stated flatly. “Only your marriage to the boy.”

            “He is no  _boy_!”

            “Why not simply take the lad as a concubine?” Lord Korath suggested.

            Thorin sneered at that. “To even think such a thing is repulsive!”

            “But it would solve the issue of precedence,” Lord Sarel stated.

            “Precedence!” Thorin growled, almost spitting. “You’ve said it enough for me to be sick of the word!”

            “Taking a concubine is an acceptable custom,” Lord Hagar pointed out. “There is nothing ... necessarily ... dishonorable about it.  Why, just look at your friends, the Ri brothers ... their great-grandmother was—”

            “I’m well aware of their great-grandmother’s position!”

            “Then you are also aware that many kings before you took concubines.”

            “I AM NOT ANY OF MY FOREFATHERS!”   

            “Maybe not,” Lord Gunar said, “But it flies in the face of Dwarrow traditions for you to take your ... _burglar_ ... as your consort.”

            “Where?!” Thorin demanded. “Show me _where_ it states forbiddance for me to take Bilbo Baggins as my consort!”

            “Nothing _states_ forbiddance.”

            “Then why are we even discussing this?!”

            “Because nowhere does it state support _either_!”

            “So because there is no rule _for it_ , you rule _against it_?!”

            There was a heavy sigh and everyone turned to see Balin stepping forward, now a Lord by Thorin’s decree, and leader of the newly reformed Council of Elders of Erebor. “If the rest of the Council will permit, I’d like to have a word with His Majesty alone.”

            A few of the elderly Dwarf-Lords seemed reluctant to leave, but the majority agreed and after a few long seconds, Thorin, Balin, and Dis were left alone.

            “Balin,” Thorin said, a slight pleading in his voice. “Surely you believe the Council’s position ridiculous!”

            Dis looked on silently; her face was, as usual, an unreadable mask. However, her standing so close to Thorin and hooking an arm through one of his, gave Balin the distinct impression that she was, at the very least, on Thorin’s side.

            “I know this may be difficult for you to accept,” Balin said, “but The Council is correct.”

            “WHAT?!” Thorin shouted. “You’ve got to be joking!”

            But Balin shook his head. “I wish I were.”

            “You’re right!” Thorin growled out. “I don’t accept this!”

            “Is there no way to compromise?” Dis asked. Her expression remained unreadable but the tone of her voice seemed to say she already knew the answer.

            Balin shook his head before turning to the king. “Thorin,” Balin said softly, as he did when the King was a young lad, “Our traditions ... our customs ... have been passed down for generations.”

            “I don’t need a history lesson!” Thorin bellowed as he paced about the room.

            “In this case, I believe you do,” Balin stated, giving a pleading look to Dis, who still refused to give her position away with a look. Balin drew a quick breath and said to Thorin, “Please sit ...” Balin gestured to the large council table. “... and let’s discuss this.”

            Thorin continued to pace. “I have no desire to sit and be lectured!”

            “Then just listen,” Balin urged.

            Thorin made no comment to agree, but neither did he tell Balin no. Blain took a chair, as did Dis, and he took a deep breath so as to begin. “Since the awakening of the Seven Fathers, we Dwarrow have followed our customs and traditions ... near religiously. And most of them were set down by Durin himself ... your own progenitor. Adherence to our doctrine is not only something that most Dwarrow believe sets us apart and above the other races, but is also a source of great pride.”

            “Pride,” Thorin sneered as he paced by the other two. “I know all too well of the _foolish_ pride of Dwarves!”

            “Some call it that as well,” Balin said. “But even those that do, would think twice before breaking or discarding our traditions out of hand.” As Thorin continued his pacing and said no more, Balin sighed and continued on. “When you first mentioned your wish to marry, I feared we might end up here. Which is why I immediately enlisted Ori’s help and we searched the library. Council minutes, record books, ledgers of the royal household, books on history, on lore, on _legends_ ... even books of fables and parables ... anything that might give us a clear precedence. However, our initial search proved ... unproductive.”

            “But ...” Dis interjected, “didn’t Ori mention once that many books and scrolls were damaged or destroyed? Could you not be missing something?”

            Balin shrugged. “It is true that many volumes have been lost, either by the dragon or from the passage of time itself.   Yet none of the returning scholars or librarians, however, could remember ever reading anything that would support your situation.”

            “Nothing?” Dis asked. “Nothing at all?”

            Balin shook his head.

            “I find that hard to believe,” Dis said. “Many Dwarrows enter into marriages with the same gender, wouldn’t that—”

            “Thorin is king,” Balin said, gently. “He is in a class by himself. What the average Dwarf does and is accepted, has little to no barring for him.” Balin breathed a sigh. “Eventually, as our search turned up nothing, we decided to send a raven to the Elven librarians in Mirkwood.”

            Thorin stopped and was cleared unhappy. “You wrote to the _Elves_?!” He looked like he might chew rock.

            “We were more than discreet,” Balin asserted. “We merely asked if they had anything on the Kings and Queens of Erebor and/or Durin’s Folk. We mentioned not your name, or Bilbo’s, or even hinted as to why we asked.”

            “And they weren’t suspicious?” Dis wanted to know.

            “We told them we were merely rebuilding our records.”

            “Did it work?” Dis asked.

            “They were not only happy to help,” Balin said, “but gifted the kingdom with several tomes detailing rulers and consorts throughout _all_ the Dwarrow realms and settlements, and in particular, there was a large tomb that detailed all the kings and their consorts of the Line of Durin ... from Durin I, right up to your grandfather.”

            “And?” Thorin demanded, his desire to know outweighing his repulsion of asking an Elf.

            “The tomes proved ... enlightening,” Balin answered. “But not in the way you would have hoped for. All they showed was that while not all Kings married, those that did had female consorts.”

            Thorin growled out of frustration and resumed his pacing, while asking, “And those that did not marry?”

            “There was no record if they took female or male lovers, or even kept concubines, although it was likely.” But Balin was not done. “However, shortly after receiving and reviewing the Elven books, Ori did discover a small, fragmented diary of a Dwarf-Lord on the Council of Elders during the reign of Durin II ... tucked away in a long, forgotten room. This Lord was apparently a very close friend of King Durin II and liked to document a great deal of the daily life and personal matters of the royal family.”

            “But you say the diary was fragmented,” Thorin asked. “So, how does that help—”

            Balin held up a hand, stopping Thorin. “Only a few entries have survived,” Balin clarified. “But from what we could piece together, it appears that King Durin II was in love with his Captain of the Guards. Or at least seems to have had a relationship with him.”

            “Seems?” Dis questioned.

            “Durin II is historically known to have taken a wife,” Balin said. “A Blacklock princess named Ingar, renowned for her beauty and intelligence. It is also historically recorded that Durin II sired four sons; Arin, Carin, Darin, and his eldest and heir apparent, Barin.”

            “I’m confused,” Dis confessed. “If he was married and sired children, how do you make the leap—”

            “From a few of the diary entries,” Balin continued, “We discovered that Durin II and his Queen did not share a bedroom.”

            “But that means nothing,” Dis pointed out. “Many Kings and Queens kept separate chambers.”

            “That is true,” Balin admitted. “But the diary went on to say, that the king _did_ share his chambers with his Captain, and it was heavily implied, if not outright stated, that this _‘sharing’_ was more of an intimate, romantic nature rather than based on friendship or for the king’s protection.”

            “Ah,” Dis said, smiling. “So you mean that the king kept his Captain as his ... _intimate companion_ ... even while married to his queen.”

            “And she didn’t care?!” Thorin asked, sounding doubtful.

            “Her views aren’t recorded,” Balin stated. “Maybe she cared but was powerless to voice her opinion. Maybe she cared not. Perhaps she even brought a lover with her from her own clan when she married. Don’t forget, rulers do not often have the luxury of waiting to find their One or even a compatible mate; heirs must be produced to continue to the line. Therefore most royal marriages, if not all of them, were arranged marriages, particularly between representatives of different clans. Such marriages were not only acceptable but encouraged, both to produce heirs and to strengthen the ties between all Dwarrow. Both your grandfather’s and father’s marriages were arranged.” Both Thorin and Dis looked disquieted at that but voiced no denial. “It is true or course that, in time, your parents came to love each other, but that is a rarity rather than a norm. Acceptance and respect are usually all that develops. As for Durin II and his queen ...” Balin shrugged. “The diary does seem to indicate that they were a friendly and content couple. In all likelihood, Queen Ingar was under no delusion as to the convenience of the marriage, and was probably no more in love with King Durin than he was with her.”

            “Disgusting,” Thorin spat out.

            “A common viewpoint of someone in love,” Balin said softly, “But when an heir is needed, a king must do what the kingdom demands.   You are lucky in that you already have heirs.”

            “So why can’t the council grant my wish?!” Thorin insisted.

            Balin sighed. “Because it goes back to our customs and traditions; there is _no recorded precedence_. There has never been a ruling sovereign, of any clan, of any kingdom, _of any line_ , but certainly none in the Line of Durin, that has taken and wed  _a male consort_. None.”

            “That is why the Lords suggested Thorin take Bilbo as a concubine,” Dis stated. “Because the only written precedence you found was of Durin II and his Captain.”

            “Correct,” Balin confirmed, nodding. “Had Ori and I not found the diary, I doubt the Council Lords would even be willing to allow Bilbo remaining as the king’s concubine.”

            Thorin sneered. “After everything, the Lords only see him worthy enough to warm my bed!”

            “As much as I hate to even say it,” Balin noted. “Bilbo, no matter how honored, is still an outsider, from another race no less; a non-Dwarrow. Although he is lauded for what he has done ... an honorary Dwarf, beloved by most if not all ... few in the kingdom would tolerate him as _consort_.”

            “The populace could well turn on Thorin,” Dis said quietly. “That’s what the council meant when they said many would view it negatively.”

            Balin nodded. “There is a great fear that the populace could rise up against Thorin, thinking him unfit or unworthy.” Balin sighed at the thought. “Despite all we have gained, the kingdom is only newly restored, still recovering, and most still hold bitter memories of the years in exile. There remains a mistrust of outsiders and an unwillingness to share what is viewed as ours and ours alone. And that would including sharing the king with an outsider.”

            “So I am little more than the people’s puppet,” Thorin said bitterly.

            “You rule your kingdom’s subjects,” Balin stated. “But that does not mean you are not subject to the kingdom’s rules.”

            Thorin’s pacing was now more akin to stalking about the room, like a caged animal in a traveling carnival. Dis seemed lost in her internal contemplation as she stared, unseeing, at the table before her.

            Balin drew breath to say that which he could only see as a solution. “Might I suggest ... that you take all that has transpired here today and discuss it openly with Bilbo.”

            Thorin stopped dead in his tracks, his back stiffening, and he turned a stony look to Balin. “Absolutely not.”

            “But surely, if you told him—”

            Thorin spun on his heels and quit the room. Balin was surprised at Thorin’s reaction.

            “Would you be happy with that?” Dis asked quietly, turning saddened eyes to Balin and gathering his attention. “Could you sit back and allow the one you love to be little more than a ... courtesan?”    

            “But many kings have had concubines in the past—”

            “And how many of those were their Ones?”

            Balin opened his mouth but nothing came out. What could he say? The answer to that question was most likely none.

            Dis sighed. “No self-respecting Dwarrow would allow their One to be viewed so degradedly.” Dis’ tone spoke of experience. “Besides ... for Thorin, it’s far more complicated than even that.”

            “But Bilbo is an intelligent and practical person,” Balin pleaded. “If he knew the situation that Thorin was in, I’m sure that he would at least understand ... especially given how much Thorin loves him.” Only someone so deeply in love would push for a break in their traditions.

            “I’ve no doubt,” Dis said. “But therein lies the real problem ...” she slow stood to leave. “... Thorin hasn’t told Bilbo anything and therefore has no clue of Thorin’s love.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Nothing. It had all come to nothing. Months of hoping, longing, waiting, dreaming, had come to naught.

            Was he asking for too much?

            He’d given to his people, his whole life.   He raised the alarm when Smaug came, rallied troops to hold back the dragon and allow more of his people to escape and survive, saved his grandfather, gathered what survivors made it out alive and all at the tender age of twenty-four; a mere child in the eyes of his people. He’d assisted in leading the ragtag group of Durin’s Folk across Arda and did all he could – working in the towns of men and on their farms for little to nothing – just so his people would not starve and continue on. He fought Orcs at the Gates of Khazad-dum with his greed-maddened grandfather and ill-fated father, his too-young brother, and all their kin in a vain attempt to take back their lost, original home before he was even considered of age. He helped his father establish a colony near the crumbling ruins of Belegost and Nogrod, in the Blue Mountains, so his people could have shelter and mine what pitiful offerings the mountains held. And when his beloved father disappeared, he stepped up and took the kingship even though at the time most considered him too young to bear it. But bear it he did and his people flourished as best they could in the halls that bore his name. Finally, in the autumn of his life, he undertook that which his father had failed at and led a small company of loyal Dwarves – and one, brave and fine Hobbit – and retook Erebor. He suffered through madness and pain, battled again an army of Orcs and Wargs and in the end, with an admitted great deal of help, reclaimed his people’s home, made them instantly prosperous and provided security for them and their children and their children’s children.

            And through it all, he’d never asked for or taken anything for himself!

            So why was it that he couldn’t have the one person he loved? The one person who had stood by him through one of the roughest and most difficult times in his life? The one person who had saved him in more ways than a Dwarf could count? The one person that his people owed almost more to than they owed to Thorin?

            He was not asking for the moon or the stars.

            He wasn’t asking to change the world.

            He was only asking to share that small bit of treasure he called happiness, with the one person, in all the world, that had brought him that treasure.

            And yet the Council Lords called him selfish.   He had returned to them all they had wanted and desired but he could not have the same? He’d given up his childhood, his freedom, and his personal choices, all so that his people could have peace, but they would not give the same to him?

            So, he wondered again, was he truly asking for too much?!

            Apparently so.

            His people could take but not give. Typical Dwarrow! It was a bitter brew to drink down, but that made it no less true.

            Thorin wanted to hear no more talk, no more words. He made for his chambers and would have told anyone brave enough to stop him that he wanted to be left alone. Luckily, his furious expression kept any that met him from even looking at him let alone stopping him.

            He came through his chamber doors like a battering ram, slamming them behind him. He stood there, fuming, his breathing heavy and looked about. Empty. His chambers were empty. Not that they weren’t dressed with furniture and furs, tapestries and what not. They were _empty of life_. No one there waiting for him. No one there warming the rooms with their presence.   His quarters were lonely and empty.

            Just like he was.

            Thorin whipped his crown from his head and sent it flying. He heard the clang of it landing somewhere on the far side of the rooms but he cared not; the crown could be mended. His heart could not at present.    

            He felt constrained, trapped. He nearly ripped his robe from his shoulders, then began pulling and tugging at his clothes until he was down to only his tunic, pants and boots. He stalked about the place, feeling as if the walls were closing in as if he were in a tomb. _Yes, 'tomb' is a good word_. He was dead without Bilbo.

            Thorin spied the corner table, the one with bottles of wine and ale for him to enjoy. Good idea. He stomped over, grabbed a bottle of ‘fine’ wine and drank it down in two gulps. It barely helped. Even as the warmth spread from his belly to his limbs, he knew it didn’t really help at all. But that didn’t stop him from grabbing a tankard, filling it from the small barrel of ale, and drink that down just as quick as the wine. Better, but still not there.

            By his third tankard, he was feeling calmer and he sat upon the large sofa before the fire, staring into the flames and seeing nothing. Seeing nothing but the loveless years of his remaining life; hollow and meaningless.

            There was a soft knock on the door. He ignored it. It sounded again. He again chose not to answer.  The third knock, however, was louder and far more insistent; more a pounding on the door than anything else.

            “I WISH TO BE ALONE!” Thorin bellowed, downing the last of his tankard and seriously contemplating sending a servant for another barrel before the current one was empty.

            “Sadly,” Dis said through the door, “ _I wish_ to see you, so you better decide who’s wish gets fulfilled.”

            Thorin rolled his eyes and huffed out a growl as he stood to open the door for his sister. “That’s an easy decision,” Thorin said, slightly slurred when he opened the door. “Seeing how I am but a figurehead, I’m under no delusion as to who’s wish get’s ignored.”

            “How much of that have you drunk?” Dis asked, grimacing.

            “Not enough.” Thorin slammed the door closed again, poured the last of the ale from the barrel into his tankard and resumed his position on the couch.

            Dis stood there, watching Thorin for several long seconds before gently taking a seat at the other end of the sofa. “I know how you feel.”

            Thorin released a small, hollow, bitter laugh. “Do you.”

            Dis squared her shoulders, and said tersely, “I should be angry with you right now for that comment, but you’re drunk, or must be, because clearly, you forget that you are not the only one who’s love was debated over traditions.”

            When Dis had met your love, her One, she had begged their father to allow her to marry him. It seemed a simple request. But there was a problem; Vili was a miner, as far from royalty as one could get. The Council of Elders had refused to grant permission. For weeks, the arguments went back and forth; love and happiness pitted against tradition and custom. The real problem was the fear that, if Thrain produced no more sons, which was almost certain, and Thorin, the now only male heir to Thrain, did not marry and/or produce heirs, which seemed more than certain, then the crown, by rights, would pass to the husband of oldest female in the Line of Durin; by tradition, custom and law, women could not inherit the crown for themselves. And under normal circumstances, a Princess would have been married off to a Prince of another clan, so the crown would go to another royal, and their offspring would continue the line through their mother. So it was that Vili, an honorable but common miner, was viewed as unacceptable.

            Dis decried the Council’s decision. Many did in fact, including Thorin. They were not living in normal times, they argued. Durin’s Folk were seen as little more than homeless beggars, and Vili was Dis’ One. No one could argue with that. But The Council was adamant and Thrain, as much as he loved and adored his daughter, would not go against tradition; Dis could not marry Vili because Vili could not be king and there was too great a chance that event would come to pass.

            Finally, the Council made on offer. Dis could marry her One, but only if she removed herself from the line of Durin. By doing so, the crown would pass her by and Vili would not be crowned king. It was outrageous in its suggestion and Thorin, as well as a great number of Dwarrowdams, proclaimed it sexist and outdated.

            But the Council was unmoved. Even after the Dwarrowdams went on strike for more than a fortnight and tensions only seemed to build, her people becoming more and more divided, the Council refused to budge. 

            Dis then presented a counter offer; she would indeed remove herself from the line of succession and even go so far as to give up her title, to be styled simply as Lady Dis.  The Council was thrilled and was ready to accept; they were getting everything they wanted! Although there was an immediate resolution of forcing Thorin to marry and producing an heir whether he liked it or not. However, Dis wasn’t finished; there was a caveat to her offer. Thorin would be allowed to  _‘adopt’_ any male children she bore, in every sense of the word but officially, thus making them his heirs and solving the issue of his being forced into marriage.

            Some on the Council were hesitant. Any offspring would be only half-royal, they stated. But others pointed out that since Thorin refused point-blank to marry, and unmarried Kings in the past had named sister-sons as heirs – King Thror and his brothers, Fror and Gror, had been sired by the sister of King Dain I and were ‘adopted’ by the king when it began apparent that he would not marry – so the idea still followed allowable tradition. And to further strengthen their argument, even a Prince that was half of the Line of Durin was better than having the Line end, or pass to one who was not strictly of Durin’s Folk.          

            Reluctantly, the Council finally agreed.

            It was a sad day when Dis went through the de-crowning ceremony. She had to kneel before the Council and her father, the king, and denounce all that she was. Thorin had been torn; he didn’t want to watch as she was humiliated and treated in a way he thought disgraceful, but neither did he want to have her go through it alone. Was it worse to go and seem to agree with the plan or not go and be seen as abandoning Dis? In the end, he went; he went for Dis. Vili had begged Dis not to go through with it. He was not worth it, he said – thus only proving his worth to her with every word – nor did he want to see her give up what was hers by right. But Dis was as adamant as the Council had been; she’d rather be the wife of a ‘lowly miner’, than a princess for the council to sell off in marriage.

            Now, in a reclaimed Erebor, Thorin was reminded of that horrid time. Thorin was indeed drunk, but not so much so that he didn’t understand what Dis meant, nor that he didn’t feel guilty. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I did forget. In my own misery, I did forget.”

            But Dis quickly moved to Thorin’s side, hooking an arm through one of his and whispering softly, “Oh, my darling, I don’t mean to hurt you. I just want you to know that I truly do know what you are going through.”

            They sat quietly for a long bit, both staring into the fire, leaning against the other in silent support.

            Thorin sighed. “You know ... it’s ironic.”

            “What is?”     

            “I’ve lived nearly two centuries. _Two hundred years_. And never, in all that time, did I ever even dream of love or marriage, let alone finding my One.” Thorin took a drink of his ale and Dis waited for him to continue. “But now ... in the span of mere months ... I’ve met someone that ... that I can’t imagine how I ever lived a single day without him.”

            Dis tightened her grip on Thorin’s arm, hugging him closer. “That’s called being in love, my dear.”

            Thorin nodded but said nothing. He wasn’t sure he could trust his voice.

            Dis took a slow breath. “Maybe ... now that I’ve really thought about it ... maybe Balin is right.”

            Thorin looked at his sister confused.

            “I mean ... maybe you should ... finally ... talk to Bilbo.”

            Thorin shook his head emphatically. “No. No. I won’t do that. I ... can’t.”

            “But surely, if he knew—”

            “You know him, Dis,” Thorin said slowly. “He is so ... so clever and kind ... so understanding and forgiving ... if he knew of the situation, he might agree and ...”

            “But, wouldn’t it make it all right?”

            Once again, Thorin shook his head, returning Dis’ smile with a bitter one of his own. “After all he has done for our people ... and all he means to me ... I will not _reward_ his deeds by making him my ... _whore_.” Thorin literally spat, as if the word were poisonous. Maybe it was in a way.

            But Dis got it.   “No. No, wouldn’t do that to him.”

            “Therefore, I will say nothing.”

            They sat there, quietly, staring into the fire, neither saying a word; Thorin’s despondence hovering like a chill in the air. Dis couldn’t say why, but she had a very bad feeling about it all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Council of Erebor. **This is completely my own headcanon **
> 
> In ages past, when the seven clans of the Dwarrow were still small, each clan would send two representatives to a yearly gathering to discuss governing matters - these matters became the traditions that are the basis of Dwarrow Society. As those Kingdoms grew, the kingdoms came to rule themselves.
> 
> In Erebor, the ruling council is made up of fifteen members -- the first fourteen members in honor of those ancient gatherings.
> 
> There are a total of seven pairs -- each pair of councilmen represent different areas of the Kingdom -- Merchants, Guilds, Foreign Matters, Domestic Matters, Military, Trade and Mines/Production. (Let it be noted that Mine Representatives and Guild Masters are not the same as the councilmen that represent those divisions). Of these pairs, one is noble birth and are granted positions based on their status, while the other half of the pair is elected by the groups they represent (this is based on the Houses of Lords and Commons in the UK). This allows that nobles and commoner alike have an equal say on the council and neither has a power of the other does not.
> 
> The fifteenth, and final member - and deciding vote - is the King. The King's Chief Advisor and Queen/Consort are allowed to be present and offer advice and opinions to the king - if warranted - but they have no vote or say in council decisions. (Let it be noted that the King may override any decision of the council and decide a matter strictly on his own. However, to do so it seen as extreme and often viewed as tyranny.)
> 
> The King may choose to have a single adviser, the Chief Adviser, or he may have a group of advisers (based on The Privy Council to The King of England). Erebor's Privy Council is only for advisory purposes and has no say in law or policy making.
> 
> AS FOR KING THORIN II ... THE COMPANY WAS HIS PRIVY COUNCIL ... DIS WAS HIS CHIEF ADVISOR ... BALIN WAS MADE LORD BALIN AND WAS ONE-HALF OF THE FOREIGN MATTERS PAIR.


	2. About Last Night ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About last night ... Bilbo seems oddly upset

* * *

 

 

            _Oh, Mahal. How much did I drink?_    

            Thorin groaned awake and rolled over. His head felt like granite. _What_ did _I drink?_ He tried to reach back into his memory but the night before was very foggy. He remembered the barrel of ale that was here but ... _Did I send for another one_? He wanted to say yes, but he wasn’t sure. And there might have been wine as well; a bottle or two. Maybe four.

            Again, he wasn’t entirely sure.

            He slowly sat up and his head throbbed terribly the higher it came off his pillow. He sat on the side of his bed, a little dizzy, a great deal of pain and just breathed, willing the pain and fog to clear. He licked his dry lips and cringed at the taste in his mouth; disgusting. Finally, after an unknown length of time, he felt ready to stand. Pushing himself up, he made his way to the washroom and wasn’t all that surprised at the red-eyed, bird-nest haired, wonky bearded reflection.

            _Note to self, no more drinking when I’m depressed._

A quick wash with cold water helped a good deal to clear out the cobwebs. He didn’t have a hangover; he could handle his liquor. But he wasn’t used to drinking like that, not like he used to; he wasn’t young anymore. Not that he’d ever been a real drinker. His father used to tell him, _‘You need to set an example Thorin for the kingdom. And not a bad one.’_

            Suddenly the day before hit him and a bitter snake rose up in him. He used his youth and his life to ‘set the example.’ And where had it gotten him? Alone and lonely and with far fewer days ahead of him than behind.

            _All right, enough._ Thorin breathed a deep sigh and steeled himself for the day. There was nothing to be done. What were his options?

            Well, he could follow the council’s advice and keep Bilbo as his lover. Make him a yet another concubine in a long line of them, stretching back through the history of the Line of Durin.   _No. Absolutely not. Never._ The idea was as repulsive at that moment as it had been when first presented.

            Of course, on the other hand, he could _ignore_ the council completely and marry anyway. But, would that be any better in the end? _No._ He’d be a rogue and most likely deemed unfit to rule; unworthy to be King of Durin’s folk, let alone of let along King Under the Mountain. Even he knew that. And would the populace rise up against him? _Possibly. Probably. That, in turn, would very well put Bilbo at risk._ That was a disquieting thought; some fanatic bigot or xenophobic madman attempting to take Bilbo’s life only made Thorin’s stomach churn and turned over.

            Sadly, there was only one thing left for him to do; what he’d been doing all along. _Nothing._ Go about his day and keep his feelings under tight lock and key, treating Bilbo with mere friendship and nothing more. And Thorin would continue to keep his distance. Never too close, never too much, never more than polite conversation and certainly not calling him _‘Bilbo’_ to his face; he was _‘Master Baggins.’_ That’s it. That’s all. That’s all he could be.

            Thorin felt sick again.

            Dressing, he decided that he’d seek some food. There were several food trays left from last night, but they were now stone cold and far from appetizing. Thorin would just have to seek –

            _Why are there so many trays?_ Thorin looked about and it dawned on him; there was no way all this had been for him and Dis alone. _Had others been here?_ He thought hard and, now that he did, he vaguely recalled the boys being there. _And Dori?_ Yes, Dori had been there, as well as Ori, Bofur and ... who else? His memory went fuzzy again.

            No matter, he was hungry and wanted something to eat. For once, he had time before council to ‘fuel up’ for the meeting.

            But he didn’t get far until he was stopped.

            By Bilbo.

           “Thorin!” Bilbo said smiling.

            Bilbo had no idea the effect he had on Thorin; especially as Thorin quickly took note of the crisp white shirt under the snug green waistcoat, which in turn, brought out the green flecks of color in Bilbo’s blue eyes, and the rich, brown pants. Thorin’s heart gave a lurch and he could feel a soppy smile working its way out of him. However, Thorin was skilled at this point and in the next moment schooled his expression into one of calm neutrality. “Master Baggins.” Thorin gave Bilbo a slight bow. “How are you this morning?

            “Well, “ Bilbo said softly, then asked, “And ... yourself?”

            _Miserable without you._ “I too am well.”

            “Oh good.” Bilbo nodded, releasing the breath he seemed to be holding. “That’s a relief.”

            “A relief?” Thorin was confused. “Did you expect me to not be?”

            “Well ...” Bilbo swallowed and his cheeks colored. “After yesterday ...”

            “Yesterday.” Thorin parroted the word back and his expression did not change but inside his gut clenched. _Durin’s beard! He knows? How much does he know? And who betrayed me?!_

            “Yes.   I expected you to feel terrible.”

            Thorin’s could not move, he was frozen to the spot, and he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice. “Did you now?”

            “And it would be entirely understandable,” Bilbo insisted.

            “You ... understand?” Thorin pulse was racing but he willed himself to remain calm.

            “I think anybody would.”

            _How can you understand it, when I cannot?!_

            “I know I don’t have to say it ...”

            _Oh, no._

            “... but I feel it’s important to tell you ...”

            _Is this it? Where he tells me I am a fool and ridiculous to think he could love me?_

            “... I’m very sorry about last night.”

            _What?_ “You’re ... sorry?” _What the hell does he mean by ‘last night?!’_

            “Naturally!”

            _There is nothing natural about this conversation!_ Thorin’s mind suddenly raced back and ... and ... _Was Bilbo there last night?!_ _Along with the others?!_ _And if he was ... what did they say? What did I say?!_

            “I mean ...” Bilbo was again, clueless of Thorin’s inner turmoil. “I’d never want to ...”

            _To be with a grizzled, foolish, old Dwarf?_

            “... hurt a friend.” Bilbo looked away and his ears were now red-tinged; he would not meet Thorin’s gaze.

            Thorin’s mind stilled and despite his confusion, he could clearly see that Bilbo was anguished over something that happened last night and Thorin simply would not stand for that. “Master Baggins. I assure you, it would never cross my mind that you would ever intentionally hurt ...”

            “Still ...” Bilbo fidgeted where he stood. “... to hurt a ... a friend ... even unintentionally, doesn’t mean that you didn’t hurt them at all.”

            _I do not understand any of this?! What in the world happened?!_

            “So ...” Bilbo looked up now and met Thorin’s eyes, obviously filled with guilt. “I must offer my sincere apology.”

            Thorin held up a hand, stopping Bilbo. “Please, Master Baggins.” Bilbo’s remorseful look was killing Thorin; he could stand no more of Bilbo’s disquiet and unhappiness.   “Think no more of it. I ... do not.”

            “Truly?” Bilbo’s smile returned. “I’m so relieved!”

            Thorin breathed his own relief and chanced a small smile. “Then I am pleased.”

            “Are you heading for breakfast?” Bilbo asked, pointing in the direction of the royal dining hall where most, if not all, of the company, met to have breakfast. “We could go together.”

            _I would go with you to the end of the world. But not now._ “Sadly I am on my way to ... to council.”

            Bilbo was no confused. “So early?”

            “I have to prepare.” Thorin quickly made up an excuse. “I have ... I mean, we ... I mean, the council ... has an issue with ... trade and we need to discuss it thoroughly, so I must decline your ... kind offer of breakfast.” It was lame and Thorin felt horrid lying to Bilbo, but he had to get away quickly.

            Thankfully, Bilbo bought what Thorin was selling. “Of course, of course!   But ...” Bilbo turned a little rueful “You should try and break at some point and eat.”

            Thorin nodded. “I will probably be too busy to break.”

            Bilbo shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You work far too much.”

            _It distracts me from the pain my heart._

            “You should take time for yourself.”

            _Only if it is more time with you._ “A King is always a king. No time for rest.”

            “Kings need to delegate.”

            _They also need love._ “I will ... take it under advisement.”

            “Good! You do that.” Bilbo sighed. “Yes, well, I must be off if I’m to make breakfast. I bid you good day.” Bilbo gave Thorin a little bow.

            “And I bid you the same.” Thorin returned Bilbo’s bow with a slight one of his own.

            They each turned and made in different directions. Thorin walked calmly but his ears were trained to that of Bilbo’s steps and as soon as Thorin heard them round the far corner of the corridor, Thorin sped up and went directly to his sister’s chambers.

            Thorin knocked but got no answer. _Is she already up and gone?_ That wasn’t normal for his sister who always enjoyed her mornings to herself. He knocked again but didn’t wait but a few moments before he was nearly pounding on the door.

            The door opened, revealing Dis still in her dressing gown and her hair loose about her shoulders.

            “You know,” Dis said, cocking an eyebrow. “There’s a word you need to become acquainted with.”

            “Panic?” Thorin said, wide-eyed.

            “No. Patience.”

            “No. I’m _in_ a panic!”

            Dis looked a little startled. “What are you talking about? Are you well this morning?”

            “You are the second person to ask me how I am,” Thorin said, pushing his way into Dis’ rooms. “I’d expect it from you but not the other!”

            “What are you on about?!” Dis asked as she closed the door.

            “Bilbo!” Thorin barked out. “I ran into Bilbo and he seemed rather concerned about my well being this morning!”

            Dis’ cheeks colored a bit. “Did he now.”

            “Yes! And he was more than a little upset about _last night_!”

            “Oh, dear.”

            “What _did_ happened last night?!”

            Dis chewed her lip, clearly working out a response to Thorin’s question, then gestured to one of the chairs by the heart. “Have a seat, Thorin.”

            “I do not wish to sit,” Thorin insisted. “Just tell me!   Please!”

            Dis shook her head. “No sit. Trust me ... you need to sit.”

            “Oh ... shite.” Thorin sunk down in the chair, the color gone from his face. “How bad is it, please?”

            “Well ...” Dis poured herself some tea from a tray Thorin had not noticed. “It depends on ones ... perspective.”

            “Kill me,” Thorin grumbled out, letting his head fall to his chest.

            Dis took the seat opposite and took anther sip of tea before putting the cup down. “When we didn’t show for dinner, the boys ... naturally ... came looking for us.”

            “Naturally.”

            “They could see that you were ... upset.”

            Thorin’s head shot up and he gave his sister a rather panicked look. “Oh no! Please tell me I didn’t blab!”

            “No. You have always been tight-lipped about your feelings for Bilbo and ... even drunk ... you didn’t let anything slip.”

            “Oh thank Mahal!”

            "Not right away anyway."

            _"WHAT?!"_

            "Just hang on," Dis said, then went on with her story.  "The boys took it upon themselves to cheer you up.”

            “I have no doubt.”

            “So, they went and got a few of the company ... for a rather impromptu party.”

            Thorin nodded. “I vaguely remember others there.”

            “You were heading deep into your cups by then.”

            “Who all came?”

            “Well, Bofur was the first to show up.”

            Thorin nodded again. “I remember him. And Dori.”

            “Ori too.”

            “Yes.”

            “Balin showed up with Ori. Kili found them in the library, so he invited them both.”

            Thorin looked worried. “Did Balin ... you know ...”

            “He didn’t give you away if that is what you are asking.”

            Thorin sighed.

            “Balin isn’t the type for gossip. He merely went along with the boys' assumption that the council and day had been a rough one for you, without going into specifics.”

            “Was anyone else there?”

            “Well ...” Dis took another sip of tea. “Both Oin and Dwalin were on duty, so they weren’t there. Bifur was watching Bombur’s children as Bombur and his wife were both working.   Nori showed up about an hour later, and Gloin showed up a bit after that.”

            “Sounds like a good group.”

            “It was.”

            But Thorin didn’t understand. “So ... how did Bil—”

            “Hang on,” Dis said, holding up her hand.   She took the opportunity to finish her tea and then stand to pour herself another cup. “Would you like something?”

            “No.”

            “Are you sure?” Dis gestured to a second pot on her tray. “There is this new drink ... it’s made from roasted beans ... the Iron Hills Dwarves brought it, apparently. They get it from traders who come from the east.  It’s a little bitter, but ... it does perk one up.”

            “No. But thank you.”

            Dis sat back down and drew a breath. “Everyone was very lively and there was more ale brought up and some wine—”

            “I remember wine.”

            “You should,” Dis said, amused. “You drank at least three bottles yourself.”

            Thorin shook his head. “No wonder my head felt like solid lead this morning.”

            Dis chuckled. “And of course, there was food. In fact, that is how Bilbo got dragged into it.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, you weren’t really getting much happier,” Dis stated. “So, the boys decided to raid the kitchens and, of course, found Bilbo there, getting a late night snack.”

            Thorin smiled. “He says it helps him sleep and gives him comfort.”

            Dis gave Thorin a sly smile at his knowing Bilbo’s habits, but Thorin didn’t notice and Dis said nothing about it, just continued her story. “Bilbo, of course, was all about coming and helping cheer you up.” Dis took a sip of her tea and dropped her bomb. “Which it did ... immensely.”

            “What?” Thorin whispered.

            “The moment Bilbo walked into your chambers, your entire mood and demeanor changed.”

            Thorin’s eyes widened.

            “It was clear he was just what you needed.”

            “Did anyone ...”

            “Notice?”

            Thorin nodded.

            “Everyone. Noticed.”

            “Ah ... bugger me.”

            “Yes, well, be that as it may ... what truly is surprising is just how many of your friends had zero clues of your regard for Bilbo; even my sons. And I find that probably the most surprising and ... disappointing of all.” Dis shook her head and added quietly, “I thought I taught them to be more clever.”

            “Dis,” Thorin grumbled out.

            “Sorry. What I mean is, I thought it was obvious ... it was to me ... as to your feelings. But, no. Balin said that he had known since the start of your journey.”

            Thorin was shocked at this. “He knew?!”

            Dis nodded. “Said it was quite clear to him ... almost from the moment you walked into Bilbo’s home, that there was a connection between you two.”

            “ _How could he_ _know that_?! _I didn’t even know it_?!”

            Dis shrugged. “How does Balin seem to know anything? It’s a gift.”

            Thorin didn’t argue. “And the others?”

            “Ori knew, but then Balin had asked for his help after you asked the council here you wished to marry. Ori said before that, he had no idea. The boys were clueless as I said, and Dori was more than a little surprised ... _‘flabbergasted’_ I think is the word he used. Gloin had no clue and Bofur ... poor Bofur looked like he’d been hit on the head. Of course, he thought it great fun.”

            “He would,” Thorin said with an eye-roll. But then asked the question that was worrying him. “Did Bilbo figure it out?”

            “Oddly ... no.” Dis finished her second cup of tea and placed on the table next to her. “He was all smiles and laughing and when you were happy to see him, he just assumed you were having a good time. It was a ‘party’ after all.”

            “Then, why did he apologize this—”

            “There is more.”

            “More?”

            Dis nodded. “When Bilbo arrived, you demanded that there be music and you got out your harp, Bofur had brought his clarinet, and Ori went and got his flute, while the boys went to get their fiddles. Before long, there was more drink ... more music ... more food ... and everyone was either, clapping, singing or dancing about. It was great fun ... for a while.”

            “For a while.”

            Dis sighed. “As the night wore on, and you were deep, deep into your cups, you decided there needed to be a toast.”

            “A toast?”

            “You wanted to thank the one person who had made everything possible.”

            “Oh, no.”

            “The one person you owed your life to.”

            “Oh, my god.”

            “The one person above all others.”

            “Kill me now.”

            “Bilbo just laughed it off.   Said that he’d been hired to do a job and that is what he did and that was all.”

            Thorin shook his head. “He would. He wears his modesty like armor.”

            “You wouldn’t have any of it, though.”

            “I ... I didn’t?” Thorin almost sounded scared.

            “No. You compared him to the bravest of warriors, the cleverest of burglars, the kindest of souls ...”

            “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Thorin knew what was coming.

            “You then proceeded to compare him to every gem known to Dwarves. He shined brighter than diamonds, you said. His eyes were like emeralds. His hair was like amber. And his smile—”

            “Please stop.”

            “When a Dwarf begins comparing someone to gems and precious stones ...”

            “You don’t have to tell me.”

            “Let’s just say, any question of his feelings towards the other person is quite answered at that point.”

            Thorin sighed. He’d made a complete fool of himself. “No wonder Bilbo was embarrassed.” But when he looked at Dis, he saw there was more. “What?”

            Dis hesitated. “I’m afraid it’s much worse.”

            Thorin found he could barely swallow. “How ... how much worse?”

            Dis drew a breath and sighed. “You confessed you loved him.”

            _“What?!”_

            “Quite unabashed. You were totally drunk by then and you’d thrown an arm around his shoulders and brought him close and said, “I love you, Bilbo Baggins.”

            Thorin had no words. He was struck dumb.

            “Bilbo laughed it off,” Dis said. “He chalked it up to the alcohol ... said he’d had many a cousin and friend, who’d confessed their love for him while deep in their cups. He really had no clue.”

            Thorin closed his eyes. _What have I done?_

“But the worst was yet to come,” Dis said quietly.

            “Worst?!” Thorin shouted. “How much worse could it have gotten at that point?!”

            Dis looked away, obviously not wanting or willing to look at Thorin as she confessed, “You insisted of course that you did and told him ... you told him he was worth far more than all the gold in Erebor.” Dis hesitated again before continuing. “Bilbo, again, laughed it off ... but you insisted that he was as precious as all the treasure in the kingdom ... Bilbo then made a joke, or it was meant to be ...”

            When Dis didn’t say more, Thorin demanded. “What?! What did he say?!”

            “He said ... _‘Oh, dear! I hope I’m not driving you back into gold-madness again!'_ ”

            Thorin chuckled at that. “That is kind of funny.”

            But Dis wasn’t laughing. “Now ... when you are sober ... it is. But not last night. Your mood changed again, and you ... you got very serious.”

            “I ... I did?”

            Dis nodded. “You began to apologize to Bilbo for what you had done. How you had ... treated him.”

            “Oh, no. I didn’t ... did I?”

            Dis nodded again. “You actually got quite upset. So did Bilbo. He tried to make you understand that he was only teasing and that you had no reason to apologize. But the more he said you didn’t need to apologize, the more you did until you were on your knees ... crying ... sobbing almost ... and begging him over and over to forgive you and you swore ... you’d rather take your own life than hurt him again.”

            Thorin hung his head.

            “Bilbo was horrified. He hadn’t meant anything by the comment ... we all knew that, but there was no reasoning with you. It took us ages to get you to finally calm down enough to go to bed and really, you only went because Bilbo led you to the bed and made you lay down.   You continued to say you were sorry to him and beg forgiveness, even as you said you didn't deserve to be forgiven ... and Bilbo just nodded and said that he did and that it was all right and that you were forgiven ... but you ... you didn’t listen. You blamed yourself and said you were unworthy and didn’t deserve his consideration, let along his regard.”

            “Oh, fuck.” It was worse; just as Dis said.

            “No matter what we said, Bilbo felt horrible. Everyone went home after that, and I walked Bilbo home myself ... hoping to ease his conscience, but ... I never felt that I reached him and clearly if he was upset this morning about last night ... I didn’t.”

            “It’s not your fault,” Thorin said, looking a little green. “It’s mine.”

            “It’s not really,” Dis insisted.

            “It is.”

            “No. It’s this intolerable situation,” Dis pointed out. “Thorin, you have got to talk to Bilbo and explain it all to him!”

            Thorin shook his head. “I’ve upset him enough. And I still won’t say anything to him, unless I can offer that which he deserves.”

            “He deserves to know the truth!”

            “Not if it will only bring him misery ... or degradation.”

            Dis huff out her disgust. “There has got to be a way to end this!”

            “There is,” Thorin said, standing and heading towards the doors. “Death.”

            “Thorin!” Dis shouted, standing herself. “What are you saying?!”

            “Some day,” Thorin replied as he opened the door to leave. “My time in this world will come to an end, and all this shall pass with me.”

            “But what of the time you do have left?!”

            “I’m a Dwarf. I shall carry on.”

            Before either said another word, Thorin was gone. Dis stood there, pacing back and forth and wondered, was there truly nothing she could do? Was there anything she could do? Could she even do it alone?

            Something occurred to her; it wasn’t a plan _per se_ , but she could see she would need the assistance of her boys. A sly smile graced her elegant face; yes, only the three of them could really solve this.

 

 

 


End file.
